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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193202">Don't Tell Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilleeboi/pseuds/lilleeboi'>lilleeboi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Illness, Disability, Emotional Hurt, Fainting, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Non-Chronological, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, Reconciliation, School Reunion, Sickfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:26:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,292</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilleeboi/pseuds/lilleeboi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“He seriously didn’t tell you, Wakatoshi?”</p>
  <p>“He has not told me anything,” Ushijima looks away. “In a long time.”</p>
  <p>When he looks up again, he can see concern deepen in Reon’s eyes. “So… you don’t know?”</p>
</blockquote>After high school, Ushijima's best friend - or the man he <i>thought</i> was his best friend - started to increasingly avoid him. Now, Tendou has barely spoken to him in months. Ushijima never knew that emotions could <i>hurt</i> like this.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oohira Reon/Semi Eita (implied), Tendou Satori &amp; Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>270</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Ushiten Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Don't Tell Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the right decision.</p><p> </p><p>When he finally makes the first step in mending what he’s broken, it feels like a massive weight has been lifted from his body. </p><p> </p><p>Being honest is almost always the right decision, Tendou realizes.  </p><p> </p><p>Semi and Reon are leaning into each other, faces mere centimetres apart, still laughing at the stupid joke Tendou made at their, and his own, expense.</p><p> </p><p>Beside him, Ushijima lifts cold soba up to his waiting mouth with a steady hand. Tendou is still hopelessly in love with him; right now he’s happy just to watch the man exist — something he didn’t think was possible only weeks ago, but Ushijima is still supporting him despite everything. Instead of a confession, he settles for the goal of getting Ushijima to call him by his given name. </p><p> </p><p>Tendou leans into his palm with a fond feeling in his chest, and brushes over the hand in Ushijima’s lap to get his attention. With noodles hanging from his mouth, Ushijima’s face is confused and flustered as he makes eye contact with Tendou. He’s as endearing as ever.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Tendou, you have a visitor.”</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima doesn’t see him right away; there are three beds, separated by baby blue privacy curtains. From a peek through a gap in the curtain, he can see the bed closest to the door is occupied by someone with a blonde head — definitely not Tendou — and the bed across from it, exposed, is also clearly not Tendou. The only bed left to see, hidden just behind a curve of fabric, must be his.</p><p> </p><p>He <em> knows </em>, by process of elimination, that when he walks further inside it’s Tendou’s bed he will see behind the curtain. </p><p> </p><p>But the person sitting there looks nothing like the one he expected to see. He looks... like a <em> patient </em>. This person has a close-shaven head and eyes that seem sunk a little deeper into their sockets than Ushijima remembers. Sallow skin clings to cheekbone and jowl. </p><p> </p><p>Ushijima’s first thought is: <em> cancer </em>. Probably because of Tendou’s lack of hair, but Ushijima shakes the thought from his mind — no one mentioned anything like that. The plastic bag handles crinkle in his clenched fist.</p><p> </p><p>The soft curl of Tendou’s lip, always quirked just so, is familiar, closed around a spoon. His fingers are the same strong fingers that blocked countless spikes, only now wrapped around a cup of pudding. </p><p> </p><p>Ushijima tells himself: <em> he’s still Tendou </em>. Probably because he needs the reminder, but maybe also because he’s relieved.</p><p> </p><p>After that split second, of Ushijima observing — the sucking of chocolate pudding from an oval spoon, the changes and the sameness, the dust around his head reflecting sunlight from the window — Tendou’s eyes land on his visitor.</p><p> </p><p>His expression changes. It’s not the content, neutral face of someone eating pudding, but something ugly and raw. His eyes, too pink at the corners, widen into something like fear, but not quite fear. His mouth tightens into a frown. The spoon falls to his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“I brought this for you,” Ushijima holds up the bag of leftover reunion food. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s not what Ushijima was hoping to hear. Maybe he should have been expecting it, given everything that led up to this moment, but a small part of him was clinging to the hope that this was all just a big misunderstanding. </p><p> </p><p>The hostility of Tendou’s tone almost makes him let go of his hope.</p><p> </p><p>But he doesn’t quite let go, <em> not yet </em>, so Ushijima keeps clinging and walks closer as if everything is fine. “I brought this for you,” he repeats himself. </p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t expecting,” Tendou gulps audibly. “This. <em> You. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>For the life of him, Ushijima still can’t read Tendou, can’t discern whether he’s nervous, or angry, or both, or neither. Perhaps he should have spent more hours learning Tendou’s moods, but at the time Ushijima only cared about what would make his friend laugh, so dedicated himself to learning the things that brought him joy. </p><p> </p><p>Tendou runs a hand through his fuzz, his cup and spoon abandoned on the hospital sheets. “You can’t see me like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“I—” He feels his throat clenching around the words he wants to say. <em> I hate you. I love you. I miss you. Why did you—  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Wakatoshi,” For once, Ushijima sees exactly what he’s meant to see. Tendou’s eyes are communicating <em> guilt </em>. His next words wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, prophetic in the way only a sensitive friend could speak. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”</p><p> </p><p>Somehow that makes Ushijima feel guilty, too. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t want to be a burden,” he whispers. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t say that,” Ushijima blurts, and he takes another step forward to stand above his friend. </p><p> </p><p>“We shouldn’t talk about this here,” Tendou’s gaze drops to the not-quite-empty chocolate pudding in his lap. “There’s no privacy.”</p><p> </p><p>“What if you died without speaking to me?” Ushijima feels his face twist in ire, beyond his control. His chin wobbles and he squints against the threat of tears.</p><p> </p><p>Tendou looks... shocked? Embarrassed? “I’m not going to die, Wakatoshi,” He says it quietly, like, like… Ushijima doesn’t know. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” <em> Like what?  </em></p><p> </p><p>Somehow their time apart has made Tendou harder to decipher than even the rest of the old team, who, yes, he was close with, but never as close as with <em> him </em>.</p><p> </p><p>There was a time when Ushijima would have said he knew Tendou just as well as he knew himself — granted, Ushijima still isn’t the <em> most </em>self-aware — but now it’s as if there’s a wall looming between them, taunting his inability to see past its stones.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus, what did they tell you?” Tendou scoffs.  “I swear, they’re so dramatic. Here, come sit.”</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima hesitates as Tendou shuffles his legs to the side, patting the bed’s edge as if the space he’s created is actually significant compared to Ushijima’s size.</p><p> </p><p>It’s awkward. Sitting on the bed, his butt only half-caught on the ledge, is awkward. Half-turned to face Tendou, bodies so much closer than they’ve been in what feels like forever, is awkward. Not speaking, maybe out of respect for the other patients, or maybe — more likely — out of lack of knowing what to say, is awkward.</p><p> </p><p>“Did Semi put you up to this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm,” Ushijima places the plastic bag on Tendou’s lap. “He said it was for your own safety.”</p><p> </p><p>Tendou laughs at that; he laughs and laughs and laughs, cheeks turning mottled pink and throat grating breathless noises. </p><p> </p><p>Ushijima’s heart picks up in his chest, and it’s not from nerves. It aches for the familiarity of a friendship he’s almost forgotten once existed without hurt. It shouldn’t make his face feel warm, or like racehorses run in his stomach, but it does. </p><p> </p><p>When Tendou thrashes, much like a child, voiceless in his teary laughter, it pulls at the IV in his arm and he grimaces in pain.</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima turns his eyes away, squeamish, and the feeling of hooves in his gut turns to wriggling worms. In a rush of unsteady confidence he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p> </p><p>The room falls quiet. The only sounds are the faint whirring and beeping of machines, the breathing of bodies, the rolling of nurse-pushed carts outside the room.</p><p> </p><p>It has to be quiet to notice these sounds. Ushijima isn’t sure why it feels so painful to be so acutely aware of these sounds. </p><p> </p><p>Tendou cracks a sad smile and says, “I don’t want to hold you back, Wakatoshi.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tendou didn’t exactly have a <em> plan </em> for how he was going to handle things. He would’ve had to get out of it <em> somehow </em>.</p><p> </p><p>So, he might be a little glad for the excuse, even though it means he’ll be stuck in bed for a couple of days.</p><p> </p><p>Semi and Reon are <em> not </em> glad. While Reon is generally more accepting of changes to plans, less obviously worried, Tendou knows that he put a lot of effort into planning tonight. He knows Reon is, in some ways, more disappointed than Semi about his non-participation.</p><p> </p><p><em> Well, at least they have each other. And everyone else, </em> he thinks. <em> At least I won’t be able to stir up any drama. </em></p><p> </p><p>Reon leaves with a bag slung over his shoulder — alone, Semi already left for practice — gait confident and relaxed even in the stark white environment. He’s used to this ward by now.</p><p>  </p><p>Tendou doesn’t bother getting friendly with his bed neighbours, both of whom seem just as uninterested as he, and instead does his best to listen to his doctor’s lecture when she pays him a visit.</p><p> </p><p>“You need to take it easy on this new medication; we don’t know what adverse reactions you may have, Tendou.” </p><p> </p><p>He groans, internally, at her exasperated tone and nods his head, like he cares more than he really does, like it’s really his fault he’s here, like he’s really sorry for a five-minute walk around the block.</p><p> </p><p>Later, Semi’s voice is stern over the phone.“<em> I’ll bring some dinner and catch you up on everyone’s news after, okay? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Tendou says. His eyes feel raw, lids heavy with the yearning for sleep, but he keeps them open — it probably looks like he’s glaring with how much force he exerts <em> not </em> blinking.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Okay, I’ll see you soon. I love you.” </em></p><p> </p><p>It’s in these soft moments of unquiet, hesitant — and almost desperate, in a way — admissions that Tendou remembers just how much strife he causes his friends. </p><p> </p><p>In high school, Semi would rarely, if <em> ever </em>, use such sentimental language. These days, it feels like his friends either say it as often as possible or ignore him altogether. He guesses he’s glad Semi subscribes to the former.</p><p> </p><p>Tendou rolls his eyes. “I love you too.” He hangs up and promptly sets himself up to watch the Adlers’ live stream, earbuds nestled in the conches of his ears — he’s a considerate bed neighbour — and cheers kept private in his mind.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Everyone was there. Except Tendou. To watch the match.</p><p> </p><p>He feels it, the rushing in his ears, before he even realizes they’re cheering. Ushijima looks up into the crowd, searching for familiar faces. </p><p> </p><p>“Wakatoshi!”</p><p> </p><p>There they are; his old team. He feels a smile pulling at his lips and cheeks and he raises a hand to wave, to show them his victory, to somehow satisfy the overwhelming pride swelling in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>His smile falters as he realizes that the one face he’s been longing to see most <em> still </em> isn’t in with the fray. </p><p> </p><p>Tendou Satori, the man he thought was his best friend, has barely spoken to him in months. After high school, Tendou quit volleyball (despite Ushijima’s insistence that he would do well professionally) and when Ushijima went abroad it didn’t take long for the two of them to fall out of contact, not for lack of effort on Ushijima’s part.</p><p> </p><p>It was surprising. And it <em> stung </em>. He thought—</p><p> </p><p>Well, he thought Tendou, his first real friend, would <em> care </em>more. But not only does it seem that Tendou is no longer interested in being friends, it also appears that he doesn’t care enough to attend their high school team reunion. The reunion that Reon and Soekawa so thoughtfully planned. The reunion planned to take place after Ushijima’s first game since moving back to Japan.</p><p> </p><p>Now, hugging his former teammates outside the gym lockers, he has hiccups from crying and when his friends ask about it he chalks it up to victory tears. They see right through it — he can tell by the looks on their faces; he’s never been one to cry after a match.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go,” Reon says, lips pursed in what Ushijima can only assume is concern. “Our reservation is at seven-thirty.”</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima’s bag thumps against his thigh as he walks, arms swinging by his sides, tight feeling in his chest. </p><p> </p><p>That tight feeling follows him throughout the evening, constricting his pride and dragging his mood down to a slow and painful death like a lump of poorly-chewed food struggling to be swallowed.</p><p> </p><p>It’s even more painful when lips made loose from liquor begin spilling stories all around him; the time they drew on Ushijima’s and Goshiki’s faces with sharpie while they were sleeping — Tendou’s idea, the time they pranked all the first years with ghost stories and Tendou spent all night waiting to scare anyone who went to the bathroom, the time Tendou was temporarily banned from the school library after yelling at a doujin manga during study period, the time they stuck pylons on their heads like witches’ hats and Tendou came up with a song to serenade their impromptu witches’ ball, the time they all got food poisoning from the cafeteria supper — except Tendou, who stuck his nose up at everything but dessert that evening.</p><p> </p><p>It seems like <em> every </em> story involves Tendou somehow, and <em> of course </em> they do, because Tendou was the life of the team. He brought everyone together — was the reason they all became so close so quickly. Tendou wasn’t just Ushijima’s best friend, he tried to be best friends with everyone on the team. Everyone who knew him knew that behind his sardonicism and mischief, he was thoughtful and kind and good.</p><p> </p><p>That’s what Ushijima thought. He thought so highly of Tendou that he almost confessed during third year. Now, he’s glad he never followed through on that plan. Knowing he would have been rejected — he pretty much has been, even as a friend — leaves a sour taste in his mouth, like their years of friendship would have all been for nothing, ended in an instant.</p><p> </p><p>Then again, maybe it would have been better, easier, to have been cut off so cleanly. </p><p> </p><p>The way things have been recently, Ushijima isn’t sure if dragging out the unplanned death of their friendship over months and months and months and months is really the best way to have the relationship end.</p><p> </p><p>With all the memories in his head, and the memories being shared around the table, he can’t help but wonder if it was all a lie. Was their friendship fake the whole time?</p><p> </p><p>It wouldn’t be the first time Ushijima has been so naive. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s a shame Tendou couldn’t make it,” Reon hums. “He was looking forward to this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mn,” Semi mumbles around the cold soba stuffed between his lips. “I promised to bring him some leftover food and tell him everyone’s news.”</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima leans forward in his seat, a pearl of sweat rolling down his temple. “Tendou wanted to come?” </p><p> </p><p>Semi looks baffled. He slurps casually, noodles snapping into his mouth and leaving a spot of sauce on his chin. “Of course! You think he would miss out on your big game? Let alone a gossip session with the old team?”</p><p> </p><p>Reon ‘<em>tsk </em>’s and lifts a napkin to Semi’s chin. “You know how he is, though. He always puts on a tough act for Ushijima.”</p><p> </p><p>“True,” Semi snorts. “He probably said something like, ‘It’s more fun being waited on,’ didn’t he, Wakatoshi?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know what you mean,” Ushijima admits. “He didn’t say anything to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Reon’s forehead wrinkles. “He’s just in the hospital for a few days. It’s nothing serious.”</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, Semi looks confused. “He seriously didn’t tell you, Wakatoshi?”</p><p> </p><p>“He has not told me <em> anything </em>,” Ushijima looks away. “In a long time.”</p><p> </p><p>When he looks up again, he can see concern deepen in Reon’s eyes. “So… you don’t know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Know what?” Ushijima feels impatient. He feels like an outsider. He feels foolish, but more than anything else, he feels worried. </p><p> </p><p>It’s the kind of worry that runs deep, like a winding trench through one’s heart, the kind that leaves lines set in weary faces.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, he can sense how quiet their group has gotten. All eyes are on him, owners holding their breath in anticipation. Of what, Ushijima isn’t sure.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to strangle him,” Semi mutters darkly. “He <em> said </em> he was staying in contact with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Eita,” Reon warns, hand already gripping his old setter’s shoulder. “He must have a good reason.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good reason my ass,” Kawanishi, on the other side of the table, rolls his eyes. “He—”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not well,” Shirabu cuts him off quickly. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>More furtive glances are thrown around the table until, finally, Semi says, “Tendou should be the one to tell you.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It was just an accident.</p><p> </p><p>His chest aches, heart beating loudly and slowly in his ears. His limbs are only halfway numb, feeling enough to recognize the grass beneath his fingers. </p><p> </p><p>He squints, the sky a bright white blob between his dark corners of blurry vision, and a smaller, more colourful, blob swings into sight.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p> </p><p>He can’t move his tongue — his mind is grasping at the concept of words, but he can’t even think of how to form a sentence, let alone move his lips to convey his feelings to another person. </p><p> </p><p>His chest <em> aches. </em></p><p> </p><p>Tendou rolls to his side, eyes meeting the white shoes of a stranger. His head feels so heavy, so sharp, like his whole brain has been squished up against his forehead.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>He licks his lips to wet them before responding — the world slowly coming more into focus — but his tongue is just as dry. “Yeah,” he says, propping himself up into a sitting position.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure? Is there someone I can call?” The stranger, a timid-sounding man with stubble framing his face, is awfully kind for offering. “You don’t look good.”</p><p> </p><p>If he didn’t feel like death itself, Tendou would probably laugh. “Nah, thank you,” he says. “I can call.”</p><p> </p><p>The stranger hovers anxiously as Tendou, with shaky hands, finds his phone and taps the quick-call button.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What’s up? </em>” It’s Reon who answers. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m at the park.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You didn’t make it very far, </em> ” He sounds concerned. It’s almost like he knows exactly what happened. “<em>I’ll be there soon. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>After Tendou hangs up, he makes eye contact with the stranger again. “Thanks for checking on me. You don’t have to stay.”</p><p> </p><p>But the stranger doesn’t leave; he stays until Reon and Semi show up in their matching leather jackets — one significantly more decorated than the other — and although Tendou knows the stranger <em> means </em> well, it doesn’t help the shame of being reliant on other people. It doesn’t make him feel any less of a burden.</p><p> </p><p>It’s only been a few weeks since he started the new medication. It’s only been a month since he moved in with his high school friends, because he can’t live alone anymore. He’s already causing them trouble. </p><p> </p><p>This feeling is familiar.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It was a secret best kept.</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima lets his eyes wander across the court. Tendou, confined to the bench, has his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees, sitting next to Coach with his eyes downcast like he’d rather be anywhere else.</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima is always confident, but he’s <em> more </em> confident with Tendou on the court with him. It’s less pressure to play next to a trusted friend than to be watched by the object of one’s affections. <br/><br/></p><p>He doesn’t know why his best friend isn’t allowed to play today, but he trusts Washijou’s judgment.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t trust the way his heart stutters every time his eyes are inexplicably drawn to the direction of the bench, again and again. It’s unsettling, and suspicious, and he’s probably just lying to himself at this point because he knows — he <em> knows </em> this suffocating feeling is what they call a crush. </p><p> </p><p>Recent events, involving carrying the guess blocker across campus to the infirmary after an unfortunate accident, have not helped. The way his body — and his mind, too, if he’s being completely honest — reacts to Tendou is his greatest secret; one of the only he’s ever kept.</p><p> </p><p>Is it silly to think he’s in love? <em> Maybe so</em>, he thinks. It should probably stay a secret.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>At least he didn’t hit his head.</p><p> </p><p>He wonders how fainting became so romanticized. There’s nothing romantic about it.</p><p> </p><p>He might enjoy this, he thinks, if it weren’t for the pain. No one ever talks about the pain.</p><p> </p><p>Even pressed to his crush’s chest, he finds it hard to get excited. Yes, his heart is pounding, but not because of Ushijima’s strong arms; that’s just his heart freaking out because he raised his hands to block a spike.</p><p> </p><p>No, he’s not excited. He feels embarrassed. Ushijima should be practicing with everyone else, not carrying his roommate bridal-style down the corridor to the nurse’s office. </p><p> </p><p>This isn’t the first time, either. Tendou has had brief fainting spells at school before, and it’s hard to hide them from his best friend when they live together on campus. Although most people don’t notice, he’s often felt embarrassed about his… condition. And Ushijima, while not always the most socially-oriented or wise, can be quite astute when it counts. Ushijima almost always notices when something is wrong, when Tendou is unwell. Even if he doesn’t really <em> know </em>. Not like Tendou does.</p><p> </p><p>But this is the first time Tendou completely passed out, collapsed on his knees, on the court. He’s never felt so humiliated.</p><p> </p><p>And Ushijima — sweet, oblivious, and selfless Ushijima — doesn’t seem to care. Like always, he’s neglecting his own best interests for the well-being of his friend. So well-meaning, but so thoughtless.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Doesn’t he know he needs to practice? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tendou <em> hates </em> cutting into Ushijima’s precious time. He always feels guilty. Because what if Ushijima’s future changes because of Tendou’s bad influence? What if Ushijima’s career is ruined because he can’t stop being nice to everyone?</p><p> </p><p>Tendou knows Ushijima finds it especially difficult not to be too nice to his friends.</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima is weird about friends, Tendou has noticed, especially Tendou himself. Ushijima is so attached, and Tendou hasn’t had the heart to tell him that he’s quitting.</p><p> </p><p>The nurse ushers Ushijima out of the room and tells Tendou to lie down while she gets him a salt stick and a Pocari Sweat. There’s nothing else she can do.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They’re practicing as usual; starting players and bench warmers are divvied up between three rotating practice teams and the ball is up in the air, spinning with the accuracy of Semi’s set. </p><p> </p><p>Ushijima connects with the ball, hand making contact in a downward motion as he hits it over the net. Tendou’s taped-up fingers are there, immediately, ready to block, but Ushijima notices something is wrong before he’s completed the follow-through of his spike. </p><p> </p><p>Tendou’s eyes are unfocused, and his usual satisfied smirk is absent from his lips. His hands are falling before he can touch the ball, and the rest of his body follows, crumpling to the court floor in graceful slow motion, impact loud and crackling in Ushijima’s ears. </p><p> </p><p>When Tendou collapses on the court, it feels like a dream. (Or, more like a nightmare, Ushijima would suppose upon a later reflection.) Practice is forgotten as he promptly volunteers to escort his friend to the infirmary.</p><p> </p><p>With Tendou’s knees hooked over his elbow, and his head tucked into his shoulder, Ushijima carries him all the way to the nurse. The guess blocker seems to be floating in and out of consciousness, agitated, so Ushijima murmurs words he hopes might be comforting. “You are a very good blocker,” he whispers. “And an excellent friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Tendou groans softly in response, and Ushijima isn’t sure if that means he was successful, or if Tendou is too out of it to care.</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima forces himself to not feel scared. But it is a difficult task; not much is scarier than seeing your whole world collapse in front of you.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You’ll grow out of it,” they said.</p><p> </p><p>He’s still waiting. It’s still here, every time he wakes up. Every time he gets out of bed it hits him like a train, slamming into his chest and knocking him down.</p><p> </p><p>He decides that this will be his last year of playing. Best to quit while he’s ahead, he figures. He wouldn’t want to have an accident on the court.</p><p> </p><p>He hides his condition from his teammates, only coaches Washijou and Saito are privy to his health, and uses the excuse of being overtired anytime anyone so much as hints that he might be feeling “under the weather.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s not a lie, exactly. He <em> is </em> tired. It’s an aching fatigue, pulling at his limbs and clouding his memory like a dose of something [really good]. </p><p> </p><p>It’s difficult to keep this secret from Ushijima, due to them being best friends. It doesn’t help that Ushijima is genuinely one of the best roommates anyone could ever have, in Tendou’s opinion, so concerned with the wellbeing of those in his proximity. Luckily, the guy is about as gullible as they come and takes shabby on-the-spot excuses at face value more often than not. </p><p> </p><p>“Tendou?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Speak of the devil. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” His head and heart hurt, throbbing even as he lays himself across the floor of their dorm room.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just taking a break from studying, Waka-chan.”</p><p> </p><p>“On the floor?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s better for your back, don’tcha know?”</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima can’t argue with that, it seems. “I see. I’ll leave you to it,” He nods in understanding. It’s cute. <em> He </em> is cute.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It was a good decision.</p><p> </p><p>When he finally gathers the courage, it feels like a massive weight has been lifted from his body. </p><p> </p><p>Opening up is almost always a good decision, Ushijima realizes. </p><p> </p><p>Across the table, Semi and Reon are leaning into each other, faces mere centimetres apart as they laugh at some stupid joke Tendou made at their, and his own, expense.</p><p> </p><p>Tendou, jaw pressed to his palm, is smiling fondly with narrowed eyes and an elbow resting on the table ledge. His lip curls softly, quirked just so, like it always has.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Ushijima lifts cold soba up to eat, strong fingers close over his other hand which lays across his lap. With noodles hanging from his mouth, he turns his cheek to make eye contact with Tendou, who only winks in response. </p><p> </p><p>They're at the same pub where the team reunion was; it's hard to believe that was only weeks ago. Perhaps even harder to believe is just how recently Ushijima said, for the first time, what was on his mind. That is, how badly he was hurting, and how sad and angry he felt. </p><p> </p><p>Two years ago, he would not have believed that emotions could be painful. He knows better now. </p><p> </p><p>Everything makes <em> sense </em> now; why Tendou was so avoidant, why he was drifting away. Sure, the reasons were poor, but Ushijima can’t say he would’ve done things much differently had their circumstances been swapped. Tendou’s apology, his explanation, and their combined efforts to make things right are helping a lot in terms of emotional pain.</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima <em> likes </em>the honesty they’re building between them. He likes the feeling of trust, and the feeling of knowing things about Tendou — things that were private before. </p><p> </p><p>But there’s something Ushijima hasn’t been completely honest about. </p><p> </p><p>Semi and Reon, in their matching jackets, throw glances back at the newly reconciled friends like concerned parents as they go on ahead of them, as Ushijima asked.</p><p> </p><p>“The weather is nice,” Ushijima says.</p><p> </p><p>At first, Tendou looks at him like he’s grown a second head, but then he snorts like he finds the statement funny. “It is,” he agrees between poorly contained giggles, ugly and almost evil-sounding. </p><p> </p><p>“It is the perfect weather for,” Ushijima gulps, and he’s sure Tendou can hear the way his adam’s apple bobs nervously. “A chat,” he says weakly.</p><p> </p><p>For the life of him, Ushijima still can’t read his best friend, but something tells him that Tendou might be nervous. Or angry. Or both. Or—</p><p> </p><p>“What do you have in mind?” Tendou asks. </p><p> </p><p><em> Honesty is the best policy </em>, Ushijima thinks, and smiles to himself (like a dork), as if that will give him the courage to say what he wants to say. “There is something I need to tell you, Tendou.”</p><p> </p><p>“Satori.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pardon?” Ushijima suddenly feels about ten times more apprehensive than he did before. </p><p> </p><p>“Call me Satori,” he, Ushijima’s <em> best friend </em>, says.</p><p> </p><p>“There is something I need to tell you, Satori,” Ushijima corrects himself. “And I hope you will forgive me if it seems… inappropriate given our recent history.”</p><p> </p><p>Tendou doesn’t say anything now, just nods and runs a hand through his fuzz. </p><p> </p><p>The street lamps, with hazy orange halos, cast light onto the pavement where they walk, several metres behind their friends, who keep looking back. Their footsteps leave little echoes in the evening, but no one else is there to hear it; they chose a quiet street, stretching for several blocks.</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima’s tongue feels dry in his mouth. This is a lot harder than raising his voice in frustration. This is a lot harder than admitting his hurt to a long-time friend. His <em> first </em>friend. </p><p> </p><p>Ushijima’s heart picks up in his chest. It aches for the safety of a friendship that never changes. That’s not the two of them; Ushijima and Tendou are still evolving after all this time. </p><p> </p><p>He’s glad he never confessed in third year. Now, he can’t believe he ever thought he’d felt <em> ready </em> back then.</p><p> </p><p>It shouldn’t make his face feel warm, or like racehorses run in his stomach, but it does. </p><p> </p><p>“You can tell me anything,” Tendou says it low, as if he’s afraid Semi and Reon might hear, and as if that might be a bad thing. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m still—”</p><p> </p><p>“I like you,” Ushijima blurts. His face feels not just warm, but <em> hot. </em></p><p> </p><p>Several things happen all at once. </p><p> </p><p>The sound of Tendou’s bag, with something hard in the bottom, cracks onto the concrete, and strong, <em> warm </em>, fingers wrap around his wrist as he’s pulled into a clumsy embrace, chapped lips brush his. And then Tendou goes down, forehead diving for Ushijima’s collarbone. </p><p> </p><p>His eyes are starry, not in the starstruck way, but in the dizzy way. And Ushijima holds him up in case he falls.</p><p> </p><p>“Wakatoshi,” Tendou slurs, and he smiles. “You’re an idiot. Don’t spring that on me while I’m standing in the street. My heart can’t take it.”</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima realizes then that Semi and Reon have stopped walking, turned instead to stare at them. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry for my poor timing. I want to be honest with you, so I had to tell you. I have liked you since high school.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, me too,” Tendou sounds breathless. Ushijima would be, too.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Ushijima says.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Tendou says.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll just go on home,” Semi calls, waving. Reon jabs him in the side.</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima forgives his friends’ inconsideration for his <em> moment </em> — or maybe it wasn’t a moment; he can’t really tell — when a second press of warm lips is on his. He doesn’t even have the time to feel disgruntled, because it feels like he’s ascending to a higher plane.</p><p> </p><p>He never expected his first — or, now his second — kiss to taste like cold soba, nor did he ever expect it to feel so… tingly and nice.</p><p> </p><p>When Tendou tells him he’s a terrible kisser, Ushijima isn’t surprised. When Ushijima says, “You are incredible at kissing,” Tendou’s eyes light up and he starts laughing as if it’s <em> really </em>funny, which Ushijima doesn’t think it is.</p><p> </p><p>Well, he guesses that’s just a part of Tendou’s charm; being weird, doing things Ushijima will likely never understand, et cetera. </p><p> </p><p>Tendou feels like a teetering chopstick in his arms, stiff as if he’s afraid of falling — Ushijima doesn’t blame him.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you remember when you carried me to the infirmary our third year?” Tendou asks, smiling wide and sloppy.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Ushijima replies. He remembers it <em> very </em>well, and he remembers how nervous he felt; similar to how he feels now.</p><p> </p><p>“You should carry me home. Just like that.”</p><p> </p><p>And Ushijima does.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted this story to be as general as possible, so I didn't specify Tendou's condition, but his symptoms are heavily based on some of my experiences with dysautonomia. </p><p>Thank you so much to my beta reader, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/irleggsy/profile">irleggsy</a> (<a href="irleggsywrites.tumblr.com/">@irleggsywrites</a> on Tumblr), for their support on this piece! </p><p>Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are much appreciated (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑ And I hope you have a great day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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